night. 3 am. you were running from the gory nightmare-fest that was Book Simon.

he was chasing you, his arms outstretched as if he wanted a hug. ...creepy

you eventually picked up a large rock and threw it at him hard

he stopped, went cross-eyed looking at the now bleeding mark on his forehead from where you threw the rock at him, whined, and started WAILING

he sits on the sidewalk, bawling like a little kid whos mom just hit them

he doesn't really talk he sits there, clutching his forehead, hiccupping and sobbing